


l'Alleanza

by LeggyStarscream



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Begging, Decapitation, Execution, Government Conspiracy, Impersonation, Implied Relationships, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeggyStarscream/pseuds/LeggyStarscream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The setup is an AU where the Council was never destroyed. In fact, the Autobots are a sort of a private army the Council put together to deal with the Decepticon uprising. Only, the Autobots had a better idea. </p>
<p>Truth is, Autobots and Decepticons have been in cahoots for a while now. They have a system: Cons cause a little ruckus, play the bad guys, then Bots come and save the day all heroic like. The plan is to slowly turn the common people's opinion in their favor against the council, who are only sitting on their afts and waiting for someone else to deal with their messes. When they've got the people won over, they only need to nobly "defeat" the Decepticons and then, with the backing of the entire population of Cybertron, there should be no problem with performing a quick and efficient coup." </p>
<p>( http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=9855454 )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kemmasandi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/gifts), [MlleMusketeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MlleMusketeer/gifts).



"And Decepticon attacks have been increasing in frequency ever since the last major assault on Iacon - what are you waiting for? Why haven't you and your team rounded up the rest of these criminals?"

Optimus Prime watched the holo-projection of the Seeker with a weary optic.

"I assure you, Councilor Contrail, that the Autobots and I are doing everything in our power to ensure the capture of any and all Decepticon terrorists."

"Yes, and while you're off engaging one team of Decepticons, another group attacks an energon transport and makes off with enough energon to fuel all of Iacon for a gigacycle!"

Contrail threw an angry fist at the Prime, who stood there, not flinching even for a microcycle.

"There is no evidence to indicate that the actions of those who raided the shipment were connected with the Decepticons."

"Oh, what? Do the terrorists need to leave the offline chassis in the smoldering shape of their emblem?"

"That would certainly be evidence of either the Decepticons or of another group attempting to impersonate them."

"You don't mean to imply…"

"I am afraid your fears are realized, Councilor. Other groups, unrelated to the Decepticons except in inspiration, have begun mobilizing." Contrail moved to speak, but Optimus raised his hand. "As Prime, I swear that I will not rest until the atrocities against Cybertron's people have ceased. However, I must leave to discuss new information with my intelligence officers."

"You'd better hurry up, Optimus! The Council made you Prime, and the Council can rev-" Optimus switched off the holo-projector, locking its use with his own private key. The Councilor's threat had been an empty one - the Matrix of Leadership could not be taken, once in place - it could only be freely given, and then only to its next bearer.

Optimus moved with effortless authority through the Autobot base. The Council had given him command over this station - located almost as far away from Iacon as one could get on Cybertron - not long after they had given him the chance to bear the Matrix of Leadership.

Optimus has immediately taken the opportunity to make amends with his old allies. Megatron was wary of his sincerity at first, but after Decepticon missions succeeded time after time - and Optimus found his name being smeared by several of the more powerful mechs in Iacon - after all, wasn't the point of a Prime to keep Cybertron safe?

Many a meeting followed were Optimus found himself halt his vocalizer, and let the Council tell him off - about how his failures to capture Decepticons weren't going unnoticed. Optimus attempted to appease them - turning over small-time criminals to local enforcement offices. Petty crime began to cease, and rumors that Megatron was making himself scarce were on the rise.

And then Optimus finally had the chance to meet up with Megatron again, for the first time in gigacycles.

They met in secret, in Kaon, in one of the old Pits were Megatron had fought for honor, glory and survival. There, an alliance between the new group that Optimus had recruited - the Autobots - and the Decepticons was formed. There, the two leaders plotted a conspiracy to overthrow the current regime and all of the horrors that had come from it, in the name of the people of Cybertron.

Optimus turned the corner to the War Room - Megatron was waiting for him.


	2. Aria dell'amante

Megatron was waiting in what the War Room. The Prime sure knew how to take his sweet-aft time talking with the Council. Were it up to him, the Council would be rusting in a pit constructed entirely of their old meeting chamber. Nevertheless, this alliance was likely the best strategy in the long term. Besides, it did come with some benefits…

Optimus had bent over in front of the holodisplay - a coupling had come loose on one of the projection beams - and he leaned over the machine, fiddling with it, his aft on full display. It was a view that Megatron would never tire of, and he let his faceplates settle into a sly grin of appreciation.

"So, Megatron, how are you feeling?" Optimus stood up and turned around to face the Decepticon leader. "I trust your injuries have been tended to." Megatron moved his optics quickly, before having them settle on Optimus' helm. The Prime's field radiated concern, and Megatron let his field open up for just the briefest of cycles.

"As usual, the medic team patched me together just fine," the silver mech replied, his field carefully displaying relief and gratitude.

"I am glad to hear that, old friend. We have many items that need to be attended to for the next few solar cycles." The holoprojector finished warming up; it now displayed a large holographic model of Cybertron, at the moment the entire planet was roughly half Optimus' height. "The Council is beginning to become suspicious. I fear that we will not have much longer until our secret is discovered."

Megatron's laugh was almost a roar. "Oh, let the old fools come. Let them come and tremble before the might of their Prime now turned against them." Optimus paused, considering - Megatron's field had the barest hint of an edge. "Of course, somehow I doubt they'd pass up the opportunity to have some bright, upstanding mech come and do their dirty work for them." Megatron's grin bared his dentae at Optimus, a face that used to terrify pit-hardened warriors, as the ex-gladiator's field radiated with deadly delight. Optimus returned the expression with a calming field and a warm smile that pulled Megatron's focus back to the present cycle.

"Which is why I have devised a plan for a new approach - I believe that, before this alliance began, the Decepticons were in the habit of distributing cubes in some of the lower-caste regions." Optimus reset his field back to a neutral state, as he always did while discussing business.

"And, so, given the spoils of our recent attack… yes, I think that shall do nicely, Prime. Of course, that would be a task best delegated." Megatron stood up and enlarged a section of the map. "We currently have the energon hidden away here, but there's a minor problem."

"The proximity to Iacon," Optimus replied, considering options as his optics danced over the map. "Perhaps if we created a diversion on the other side of the city," he paused, briefly, to pull up the map of the region he referred to, "we would be able to move the energon shipment to Kaon with less scrutiny."

Megatron's field shifted, noticeably, to amusement. "And just what were you considering, _Prime_?" he asked, putting teasing weight on the other mech's title.

If Optimus noticed, he made no indication of it. His field remained evenly neutral.

"I was hoping that you could send some of your forces here," Optimus indicated a building in the area - a data center, one of many that formed a small perimeter around the outskirts of Iacon. Built in the Golden Age, they offered range and security boosts to Cybertronians' innate data transferring protocols, but in the more modern times, they also offered the Council a way to monitor and listen in on its citizens.

"Oh? And just what were you thinking should happen there?" Megatron placed an arm around the top of Optimus' chassis, zooming in the map to a detailed model of the building and some of the surrounding area.

"If we placed demolition charges here, here and here," Optimus gestured to each of the locations as he spoke, the spots glowing red in response, "it would cripple the building's operations with minimal injuries to the surrounding population."

"Optimus! _Minimal_ injuries?" Megatron replied with faux horror in his voice - and amusement in his field.

Optimus turned to face Megatron directly. "It is regrettable, yes. However, it is our best chance to sow confusion among the citizens - if they lose even a little of…" Optimus trailed off as he noticed the expression plastered across Megatron's faceplates.

"Go on, Optimus." Megatron moved himself closed to the red and blue mech, his field slowly flaring out with desire with every step. "Tell me more."

"Megatron, I do not believe this is the-" Optimus' sentence was cut off by a hand placed at the base of his helm, and Megatron's hand guiding their faceplates together. Optimus' arms dropped loosely to his sides, and, after a moment, he reached up and locked his arms around Megatron's waist, pulling the ex-gladiator's frame next to his. Optimus' optics offlined as Megatron's intake rubbed against his, and Optimus let his glossa slide out of his intake and into Megatron's. The cycles seemed to drift away into nothingness as they kissed, but Optimus was the first to break away. He onlined his optics, and looked straight into the face of a smug, pleasantly surprised Megatron.

Optimus shifted to move away, but Megatron put a hand around his wrist, his field almost pleading.

"The door, old friend." Optimus reached his free hand down to brush aside Megatron's grip, but the other mech had already let go, his field small and calm with understanding. Optimus walked over to the lock controls for the room, and with every step, he could feel Megatron's field chasing after him - a field that grew increasingly lusty as it grew in size.  
Optimus let his field expand; the warm comfort that he felt in Megatron's desire, his own desire and the not insignificant fear of being caught in the War Room. As Optimus finished the lock protocols, Megatron's field shifted, softening a little, before turning into an invitation. Optimus smiled as he turned his frame back around and walked toward the Decepticon leader, who had already retracted his interface paneling. Megatron sat on top of the holodisplay, leaning backwards, legs spread out so that both his spike and valve were on full display. Megatron locked optics with Optimus.

"Well, Prime, what are you waiting for?"

Optimus leaned over Megatron, one hand resting just above Megatron's interface paneling, the other on the center of Megatron's chassis, and his now extremely playful and teasing field washed over the silver mech. Megatron's arms skidded backwards under the weight and Optimus shifted his hand to the other side of Megatron's chassis to help support him. With a single motion, Optimus raised Megatron's chassis so that their intakes touched. Optimus then slid his other hand down, tracing around the base of Megatron's spike, and sliding over the edge of his valve.

Megatron's frame stiffened and his vents roared as Optimus' finger barely entered his valve. The silver mech reached up and wrapped his arms around Optimus, pulling their frames next to each other with a loud metallic clank.

Optimus' processor devoted a spare thread to making a note to clean up the paint transfers later, and he immediately skimmed his hand back up Megatron's valve, finger tip touching just inside before sliding back out and up the underside of his spike with a gentle touch. Megatron's fans roared as Optimus' fingers twirled around the head, before sliding back down and coming back around for another stroke.

"Oh, Primus…" Megatron's vocalizer cut out to static every time one of Optimus' digits touched a particularly sensitive spot. Optimus continued playing, silently, working over Megatron's interface array with practiced ease. It was satisfying, empowering even, to see the leader of the Decepticons - the group that terrorized all of Cybertron, the group that the Council had sent the best of the best after repeatedly without success - crumble under nothing more than a light touch of his digits. Optimus smiled, playfully, as he dipped his finger further and further into Megatron's valve with each stroke up the mech's array.

Megatron's chassis vibrated slightly as it moved, reflexively, trying to escape Optimus' touch. Optimus' hands were faster, though, and Megatron's vocalizer was reduced to spewing out static.

Megatron grinned, pulling his faceplates away from Optimus', and, with a smooth, practiced motion, flipped both of them over - Optimus' optics fading to static for a moment on impact, but he was completely unharmed. Megatron was always more careful than the mech would ever admit.

When Optimus' optics came back online, they were immediately filled with the sight of Megatron's helm lowering to be directly in line with his interface panel, a wicked grin plastered across his face, and a hand just below the joint were Optimus' legs attached to his chassis. Megatron's glossa flicked momentarily across his intake and Optimus' field radiated desire.

All it took was a single kiss, and Optimus' interface panelling opened - and a static hiss escaped his vocalizer.

"Prime, you _certainly_ seem to be enjoying yourself," Megatron teased as he grabbed ahold of Optimus' spike, and with a quick pumping motion, Optimus felt his processor go blank.

Megatron's optics gazed up and down the length of Optimus' chassis as he flicked his glossa over the tip of Optimus' spike - and Optimus found himself unable to hold in the roar of static from his vocalizer. All he could process was feeling of Megatron's grip and glossa working on his spike, up and down and small twists back and forth and-

Optimus almost didn't notice Megatron's intake on his valve until he felt the silver mech's glossa slide around the edge. It was- it was almost too much to handle, and Optimus dropped his arms over the sides of the holoprojector, gripping onto the sides with all of his might to attempt to control the sensation. His fans roared at full blast as Megatron's faceplates slid around his interface array - up and down his spike, around and inside his valve, moving unpredictably, settling into patterns and breaking them just to slide over a more sensitive spot. Optimus wanted to speak - wanted to tell Megatron what he was doing - but his vocalizer processes were cut short from the sensations from his interface panelling so fast that he couldn't even string a word together.

Even then, he could feel the charge building up - a steady climb, punctuated with sudden spikes and falls as Megatron's patterns change abruptly. His fans roared, and his faceplates mouthed "Oh Primus" and "Megatron" repeatedly. The charge built higher and higher, and Optimus felt himself getting closer and closer to overload and-

Megatron stopped.

Optimus' processor ran a quick scan of the room - was everything already? Had something gone wrong? His optics scanned the room - had someone walked in on them?

His optics came to rest on Megatron who chuckled at the Prime. "Oh, Optimus. We are-" Megatron leaned over Optimus, his intake next to Optimus' aural sensors, "-entirely alone." Optimus let his embarrassment seep out into his field, and Megatron's field responded with delight and the faintest hint of comfort.

"Before you ask, though, I stopped because I figured you deserved a break - before the big event." Megatron had a hand around his spike, and waved it towards Optimus' valve.

Optimus' processor cleared out the remaining threads in anticipation of the incoming thrust - it took a few cycles before his frame relaxed again.

"Megatron-"

"Oh, Prime, do you think I'm going to do something you don't want?" Megatron's faceplates curled into a dentae-baring sneer. "All you have to do is ask."

Optimus' vents surged. "Please, Megatron…"

"Yes?"

"I want you to frag me," Optimus said, vocalizer soft, and slightly staticky.

Megatron paused, and leaned in, his helm barely above Optimus'.

"What was that, Optimus? I can't hear you over your ventilating."

"Megatron, I want you to frag me," Optimus' voice was clear and even.

"Is that so?" Megatron's sneer widened. "But, there are so many ways to go about fragging one's partner…"

"I want-" Optimus said, vocalizer cutting out to static as Megatron ran a playful finger down his interface panel.

"Yes? Do go on."

Optimus took a moment to compose himself from the effect Megatron's teasing finger had on him. "I- I want your spike in me."

"As you command, Prime." Megatron maneuvered his spike into line with Optimus' valve, until the tip touched the very edge of the valve. Megatron slid it around the outside, Optimus' fan's roaring as he waited for Megatron to slid inside of him.

Megatron's first thrust was shallow, gentle, but Optimus' vocalizer still let out a static burst - before he could reset his vocalizer, Megatron had already gone for a second thrust, still slow, still gentle, but deeper.

Megatron continued, working his way inside of Optimus, plunging deeper and deeper with each thrust. Optimus' fans ran at full power, and it took all of his processing power to do anything besides vocalize static.

Megatron plunged himself into Optimus as deeply as he could, and held himself there. Optimus could feel every last nanoklik of Megatron inside of him, his valve calipers adjusting and readjusting around the spike. It was a pleasant feeling, and from the look on Megatron's faceplates, he was enjoying it even more.

Without warning, Megatron pulled his spike almost all of the way out, and before Optimus had time to turn up his fans, Megatron thrust his spike back down in one fluid shove.

Optimus' processor froze for a moment - just enough time for Megatron to thrust in a second time, faster yet again. This thrust was met with Optimus' frame arching slightly and another vocalizer burst. Optimus' optics had trouble focusing as Megatron fragged him - with each passing moment, stronger and harder, but he still feel Megatron's field. Megatron simply radiated his pleasure, with subtle hints of-

"Oh Primus," Optimus vocalized without realizing as Megatron's spike rubbed up against a particularly sensitive sensor in his valve.

"Oh Primus," he repeated - Megatron had taken note and repeated the motion that elicited the first comment from Optimus. "Megatron." - Optimus' vocalizations were still staticky - "Right there. Right… there."

Megatron willingly obliged, his chassis clanking against Optimus'. Optimus could feel his chassis sliding backwards from the force of each thrust, and it was all he could do to grip the side of the projector to keep from being pushed too far.

Even then, his grip weakened under both the force of his partner's thrusts and his own charge buildup. Optimus' fans roared at full speed, and he lost himself in primal force that Megatron always brought to the berth.

Megatron's faceplates were hanging open, but his optics were fixed on Optimus' frame, taking the entire view in. The silver mech fragged Optimus harder, picking up speed for a burst of frantic thrusts before falling back to a more sustainable rhythm. Optimus' vocalizer was running on default settings, letting out a constant static moan, and a sudden burst every time Megatron's chassis collided with his. He was building up charge steadily, but he was rapidly approaching overload.

"M-megatron," Optimus vocalized, "i-if, if you continue in that way…"

"O-optimus… I- I don't think I can-" Megatron's vocalizer was cutting in and out, in rhythm with his motions. "I'm g- I'm going to-"

Megatron overloaded, sending a blast of current through his spike into Optimus' chassis. Optimus' optics shook in his frame and Optimus could feel every caliper in his valve spasm as Megatron's spike pulsed out current.

The feeling drove him over the edge - Optimus overloaded with a loud, drawn-out burst of static. Megatron slid out from inside of him as his interface array began its slow reset process, and Optimus found himself sliding off of the projector and onto the floor - despite his every intention to stand up instead.

The two lay on the floor, both sets of cooling vents running at full force. Optimus raised his head first and Megatron met his optics, slowly. Optimus' faceplates cracked into a small smile and Megatron quickly looked away, not daring to speak the words that were on the edge of his vocalizer circuit. Megatron stood up, pushing off of the floor to maintain balance, and offered a hand to the Prime - the one mech who should, by all rights, be his sworn foe. Optimus took the hand and pulled himself up, faceplates still grinning, and Megatron knew that the red and blue mech knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I love you too." Optimus' voice was soft, and full of every bit of gentleness that Megatron remembered from the voice of a young data clerk.

Megatron sent a hurried command code to the holo-screen and the map of Cybertron came back online.

"So, Optimus, you were saying about a potential target?"


	3. Entr'acte

Cybertron High Council Meeting 41E0AF2 - Record classification **Top Secret**

Transcript as follows:

Councilor 42AE6: My fellow Councilors, I fear I must confess misgivings in my processor about our Prime. He is young, yes, and naive, but I fear that he will not stand to the task we have laid before him.

Councilor 91BC3: Are you accusing the Prime of treason against the High Council? Even against a mining-caste mech, that is a very serious accusation.

Councilor 42AE6: I am aware of the weight of the words that I speak. But, online your optics and look at the data! How many stellar cycles has it been since we sent the Prime off to handle this Decepticon issue?

Councilor FA921: I hear the Decepticons are not so easily placated. Their leader, Megatron, has proven time and time again elusive.

Councilor 42AE6: Because our Prime has time and time again proven incapable of capturing even the lowliest of the Decepticons! I do not doubt the Prime's wisdom - but I fear his inexperience will be the downfall of us all.

Councilor 91BC3: What would you have us do? We've already given the Prime every resource and mech we could spare for the task force.

Councilor 42AE6: Not every mech.

Councilor A1142: You don't mean…

Councilor 42AE6: I do. The rehabilitation process has proven successful, and I believe that our new ally will be able to see this task though with much greater efficiency than the Prime ever could.

High Councilor: Call to vote - all Councilors, transmit your votes to the Council Core.

[Vote Results: Unanimous 'Aye']

Councilor 42AE6: Since the Council has willed it so, allow me to introduce our first member of the Cybertronian Justice Division. Enter, Tarn.

[Transcription note: The Cybertronian known as 'Tarn' enters the room]

Councilor 42AE6: Tarn, state your duty.

Tarn: My duty is to protect Cybertron and uphold the will of the High Council.

High Councilor: Tarn - your orders are simple. Find every Decepticon, and bring them before us, whether offline or online. Do you understand?

Tarn: I do.

High Councilor: I now declare Meeting 41E0AF2 of the Cybertronian High Council adjourned.


	4. Recitativo accompagnato del guerriero

The Decepticon forces were being decimated, and there was nothing Megatron could do to save them.

With a few exceptions, most of the Decepticon forces remained in their places in society, going about their lives as normally as they could - until called upon to act by their leader. Optimus and Megatron had planned it that way - the fewer who knew of the alliance, the better, and neither of them trusted any Cybertronian who hadn't already been in either of their inner circles.

The Decepticons were kept in separate squads, in the dark about the identity, location or existence of any other Decepticons. Soundwave had even made a habit of doctoring recordings of Decepticon activities to keep them even further off the radar.

And yet, no fewer than forty Decepticons had gone missing in as many stellar cycles, several had already been confirmed offline, and there was no evidence to suggest the remainder would be found at all.

It was true that most of the Decepticon grunts came from the lower castes of society - the disposable castes, as the preening slagheads of Iacon were fond of calling them. It was also true that lower caste Cybertronians tended to lead harsher, tougher lives than the higher castes.

That still did not explain how over thirty Decepticons had gone offline in as many megacycles.

Optimus did his best to be sympathetic - the mech had a good spark. He felt some of the losses as well - some of the offlined had met both of them before Optimus had became Prime. But this situation was not going to be solved by the Prime's sympathies. This was a problem solved by action - by going out and slagging the fragger responsible-

And so when the search for the party responsible turned up empty - Soundwave couldn't find anything, the Prime's task force was useless, and Unicron damnit, even Shockwave returned without a byte of helpful data.

Megatron threw a fist into the wall - his blade sliding out from underneath his fusion cannon and stabbing even further in. He retracted it quickly, and threw a punch with his other hand into the wall.

And another. And another. And another still. The building was sturdy enough that the wall only showed denting where his blows fell, but even then, Megatron felt the rage in his spark slowly fading away. Anger was good - anger was power, anger let him think quickly - but rage was anger without reason.

Without reason, he would have been left dead in the Pits teracycles ago.

His cooling fans were running from all of the punching, and he used their gentle hum as a focus for his processor until his thoughts stopped running wild.

He comm system sent a notification: he received a new comm from Optimus. He opened it immediately - and his spark froze when he processed the contents.

Megatron immediately turned on the nearest view screen - expecting to see some sort of denial, expecting this to be some sort of terrible prank.

_Optimus is not one to joke around._

The view screen tuned into the proper frequency. Megatron's frame gave out under him, and he fell to his knees with a loud clank. Pain sensors fired off, but he ignored them without even a moment's thought - the contents of the view screen were all encompassing.

Vos had turned into a slaughterpit. A series of explosions had devastated the city, causing the deaths of thousands - and by now, the Council had implicated Air Commander Starscream as the Decepticon official responsible. Seekers were fighting with civilians in the streets, just attempting to keep order.

A grainy vid feed of an impostor played, declaring the ruins of Vos as a new home for Decepticons everywhere, declaring it the new capital of a Decepticon empire.

The screen then cut to Starscream, specifically a close-up of the Prince's wing. Megatron's optics widened as the shot zoomed out.

The mech was on the ground, energon spilling out of dozens of cracks in his frame, limbs disconnected and separated into a scattered pile next to the mech. His chassis had been blasted open, then ripped open further, and both his T-cog and spark chamber were visible - at least, as much of each as remained.

Megatron stood up, stumbled back a few steps, and fired his fusion cannon into the view screen; he heard it fire, felt the recoil from the cannon, but the feed remained in front of his optics. The view panned up to Starscream's helm - his optics removed from their sockets, his processor shattered across the ground, his faceplates twisted in agony.

The image froze, and a message in an older Cybertronian script displayed.

"TARGET'S FINAL WORDS: ALL HAIL LORD MEGATRON"

The message cut out - Megatron's optics blurred out for a moment before coming back into focus on the hole in the view screen. He took a moment to check his memory banks for any information on the message he had just received - but there was nothing, only the message from Optimus that told him to turn on the view-

Megatron paused, and checked the message's signature against Optimus'. The two sequences were very similar, but not identical.

A traceback failed to determine the original sender.

Megatron's processor locked itself on a single thread - "This is impossible. This can't be happening." He reset his optics, and for a moment wondered if he should reset his entire processor as well. The reality sank in as a newsfeed message flew through his private comm link about the attack.

Megatron turned his helm with a start at the sound of the door opening; Optimus stood at the entrance, weapons online and battlemask on. Megatron lowered his fusion cannon, once he realized he had it raised and ready to fire. After the Prime's optics scanned the room, he entered, field changing quickly from fear and rage to concern and worry.

"Megatron - are you all right?" Optimus spoke slowly, putting away his weapons and offering the other mech a hand up - which Megatron declined. Megatron stood up, though, optics faced pointedly away from Optimus.

"What happened here? I heard weapons discharge and came as soon as I could." Optimus placed a gentle hand on Megatron's shoulder. Megatron shrugged it off, field pulled as tightly as he could manage.

Optimus stood and watched as Megatron walked out of the room without saying a word, save for a quiet keening that began the moment he turned the corner.


	5. Il Tradimento

A lone jet soared across the skies of Kaon. The incident in Vos had but the whole of Cybertron on edge, and the council had already instituted and begun to enforce curfews across the planet. Kaon was home to a near majority of the labor caste, and so most of the city was forced into recharge. Mechs stood in the street, halfway to their living quarters, most in alt mode, some not. One had even been caught mid-transformation.

A small wave of satisfaction washed over Megatron - had it not been for Shockwave's inside intelligence, and Soundwave's careful reprogramming, he too would be offline.

Easy pickings for whatever brute devastated Vos.

Megatron forced himself to ignore the sight, the fields of all of the mechs - every field tainted with mild tinges of fear and confusion. No-one had warned them that they had this protocol. The information feeds announced nothing until afterwards.

Shockwave had already sent him a secured message. All it read was "IN HIDING. SAFE."

Soundwave was still at Optimus' base. Megatron knew that he was safe there. At least, for now.

If the council had a minion who had gotten this far, it was only a matter of time for the ruse to be uncovered.

Megatron transformed in midair, close to the ground, over a very familiar location, landing on the ground on one knee.

He stood up, optics still offlined, a memory from long ago of this place replaying in his processor.

The gladiator pits of Kaon were originally mining operations whose resources had dried up. Talk had floated around the upper castes for the longest time about sealing up the pits, or flooding them, but the workers in Kaon made a point of using them as ways to escape both the drudgery of day-to-day life and their overseers. Different pits held different purposes, but this one - one of the two largest in Kaon - was the primary arena.

The original excavation had left the pit with several tiered rings at the top, which were perfect for spectators, and were the primary reason that this had been chosen as the main arena. Megatron gazed over the crowd in his recording. Twenty-three of the now-offline Decepticons were the crowd.

The memory view was shut off as quickly as Megatron could force it, but the scene still lingered in his memory banks, and refused to be purged.

Megatron onlined his combat simulation protocols. In a quarantined off section of his processor, he simulated a combatant, similar to one that he would have fought in these pits. His faux-foe was sloppy, and fell quickly to a fusion cannon burst. The simulation sent another after him. This one dodged the first blast, but fell a cycle later to a second round of fire. One after another, he simulated foe after foe, each getting smarter and faster as the program learned from his moves, his tactics.

Megatron had lost count of the number of opponents he had sent after himself when noticed another mech standing along the edge of the arena walls.

"Hello, Megatron. I had worried about your safety." The familiar sheen of Optimus' finish was a relief to Megatron's optics, and he let his field go to show it.

"You worried? You should know me better than **that** , Prime," Megatron scoffed, despite his field. "I was just afraid I'd have to offline a mech for finding me here."

Optimus took a small step backwards. "Was I not supposed to know of this arena's existence?" His field was cautious, uncertain, almost afraid.

Megatron laughed, truly laughed. "No matter now. I'm ready to return, as soon as you are."

Optimus paused for a second. "Of course, Megatron. Let us return. Should I follow you in alt-mode?"

Megatron's optics narrowed slightly. "Surely, you jest, Prime."

"Yes, my friend. I apologize, given the circumstances, now might not be the best time for humor."

Megatron pulled his field in tight, as close as he could. "Never mind that now, _Old Friend_ ," he said, walking up next to the blue and red mech. He held out his non-cannon arm for the mech, who hesitantly took it.

Megatron slammed Optimus to the ground, cannon whining as it came online.

"You are not Optimus Prime." Megatron growled the words, and punched the mech's helm into the ground a second time, and grabbed him by the top of his chassis.

Megatron picked the imposter up, only to see the mech's helm dissolve into tiny plates and sink into his chassis. The plating around Megatron's hand began sliding up his arm, and Megatron, in moment of panic, ripped his arm back before it could be engulfed.

The mech before him was now a whirling mass of moving metal pieces, oozing out around the floor of the arena. After a few cycles, it began reforming itself into a black frame, rough and unpolished, with jagged edges sticking out at every plate's edge.

Megatron fired at the mech, who sidestepped gracefully. The plates that would form the helm of any other mech twisted into a grotesque smile.

Megatron fired again and again and the mech twisted around each blast, his plates flowing fluidly around the cannon fire.

"So, Megatron, is that the best you can do?"

Megatron froze. That voice - the voice was Starscream's. Megatron whirled around, scanning the arena, scanning the skies for the Seeker, forgetting all else for a moment.

He turned back to the mech he had been firing at - and Starscream was standing there.

"Oh, come now, my liege, you've gone soft since you've starting holing up with the Prime. "

This was a trap. This was a trick. There was no way that the mech standing in front of him was anything but the imposter he had seen earlier.

And yet there was a small part of Megatron's spark that rejected those facts and all logic, for the sake of seeing his second-in-command, online, in front of him, as if the events shown to him had never happened.

Megatron stared, optics slightly out of focus as his processor considered a thousand different options, each quickly dismissed in turn.

"Starscream?" he asked, the faint glimmer of hope in his spark shining with all its might.

"Yes? Who else would it be?" The other mech laughed. "What? Did you **honestly** think that those slagheads could offline me?"

Megatron tripped a processor override. "No," he growled, "You are not Starscream!"

He brought his cannon up to fire, and -

Everything went black.

* * *

Tarn stepped down to the fallen mech, and placed one hand on Megatron's chassis.

"Still online."

He retracted his weapon, small sparkles of energy still coursing over the edge from the blast that offlined Megatron.

A motion at Makeshift and the mech whirled around himself, transforming into a thin shell of a cage large enough to hold the Decepticon leader, one side left open.

Tarn grabbed Megatron by the helm, and shoved a pair of stasis cuffs onto the Decepticon leader. With a single motion, he lobbed Megatron into Makeshift, who closed himself around Megatron.

Tarn reverted into his tank mode, and the two drove off, leaving no traces but some fresh spilled energon and new marks on the walls, indistinguishable from the ones that had been there for eons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all - school's kickin' me up the tailpipe, so I may or not may post a chapter next week. Regardless, I'll post the week after that.
> 
> But if you thought this chapter was interesting...
> 
> Heh. Just wait.


	6. La Caduta

Optimus looked back at his data pad, puzzled. The data he was transcribing from old Iacon archives - historical information, of personal interest - had seemed familiar. And, as he quickly realized, he had been working with data that he had finished the previous stellar cycle.

Optimus reset his optics, set the data pad down, and left the facility. As soon as he made it outside, he transformed, heading out for a short loop around the area.

Five stellar cycles. Five stellar cycles and no sign of Megatron - no feed data, no comms, nothing. In spite of himself, Optimus was worried - it wasn't that Megatron couldn't handle himself, even in dire straights, but something about this situation was wrong.

Optimus had tried to maintain an air of business as usual around the base - if anyone suspected anything, it was Jazz. After the "attack" on Vos, Decepticon activity would be in a lull, anyway. But, Optimus always had to battle against his processor to recharge every time Megatron was away.

This time was different, though. This time, he was losing.

Optimus' optics glanced over the twinkling lights of the Cybertronian evening, the light of the moons reflecting off the polished buildings. It was always relaxing - a sign that, despite everything, there was always beauty in the world. And that beauty was always worth fighting for.

Optimus pulled over to watch the lights when he received a comm - an urgent, official comm, requesting his presence in Iacon immediately. After several long moments of deliberation - followed by a heavy-hearted ex-vent - Optimus drove off into the distance, as fast as he could.

* * *

Optimus arrived at the Council Chambers, and transformed back into his robot mode before crossing the threshold. It had been ages upon ages since he had last been inside the building; the last time he had entered, he had been merely Orion Pax. The building itself was as ornate as he recalled - a high vaulted ceiling made of forged silicate allowed much of the sunlight to filter through into the entrance hall.

Optimus approached the main doors of the Council Chamber - an identity scanner stopped short upon recognizing the Matrix, and the ancient, gear-driven doors slowly slid open.

The entire Council was present, sitting atop their high vantage points. Optimus felt the force of each stern field baring down on him, but he refused to show any indication of the weight.

The High Councilor spoke:

"Optimus Prime, rejoice! Your hard fought battle is now finished!"

Optimus' field purposefully radiated confusion. There was only one thing he could be referring to, but Optimus fought to maintain a glimmer of hope.

"I do not understand, High Councilor. Which battle do you speak of?"

"The war against the Decepticons has ended; their leader Megatron has been brought to justice."

Optimus' spark stopped pulsing.

"Are you stating that he has already been executed?" The words came slowly, as Optimus had dedicated a large chunk of processing power to stabilizing his field.

"He has not been." Optimus barely suppressed the rush of joy that arced through his field. "His guilt has been confirmed; a confession, freely given. He is to be executed, publicly, at the end of the next stellar cycle. And, as a threat to all of Cybertron and Cybertronian life, it falls to you, our Prime, to see that his sentence is carried out."

The dam of Optimus' field broke. The fields of the Council were washed away in a torrent of emotions - rage, fear, heartbreak, loathing.

The Council had not expected this - the members looked at each other, muttering.

"I refuse." Optimus' voice was soft, and only Councilor Contrail heard that the mech had said anything at all.

"What was that, Prime?" the Councilor growled.

"I refuse," Optimus repeated with all the force he could push through his vocalizer. The mech stood, trembling, as the Councilors scoured him with their optics.

A smirk crossed the High Councilor's faceplates.

"Very well then."

A stasis field erupted around Optimus, trapping him as two mechs entered the room from behind him. Optimus strained against the unyielding field until an energy blast knocked everything to black.


	7. Notte oscura dell'anima

The cycles slowly ticked away in Optimus' internal clock. He had been left in stasis, but his optics were covered - by what, he couldn't tell. The cycles turned into kilocycles, and then megacycles and gigacycles.

After the count reached teracycles, Optimus forced himself to forget how long he had been held captive.

His processor then began the count all over.

Mostly, though, his thoughts drifted to the other Autobots under his command, wondering, hoping that they were spared a similar fate. The other Decepticons were all likely to be executed - unless they opted to have their processor wiped clean and their frame launched off to Luna-2 for service as a mining bot.

At least they wouldn't remember what came before.

There was one name that Optimus refused to let himself think - he vehemently opposed himself from letting the name crawl across his processor. Because everytime he remembered the name Megatron, his spark sank down through his frame. They had failed. The dream of a Cybertron freed from the oppressive system that ruled it had been extinguished the instant he refused the council.

Now, all that was left was to wait for the rust to set in.

A sudden jolt after the eons of paralysis and he was free again. His optics onlined, blurry, out of focus, but the room was dark.

As his optics adjusted, he saw that he was in a cell; still imprisoned, but mobile now. Three of the walls were blocked off by thick, heavy metal, and the fourth was a transparent field that the jailers used as the both the final wall and the door. The room wasn't large by Cybertronian standards; Optimus was not the largest mech, by far, and the ceiling was only twice his height again over his head. Another few cycles passed and he noticed another cell, directly facing him, with a mech sitting, facing the wall.

Optimus tested his joints - the stasis field, apparently, had left his frame in better condition than anticipated. The sounds of his movement apparently attracted the other mech's attention, as his field reached out to Optimus, questioning, slightly fearful, uncertain. Optimus let his own field wash back with a wave of calmness and good intentions.

"I will not harm you, friend," Optimus said, optics fixed on the mech's quivering form.

"Lies." The mech's reply was muffled by a static hiss - a vocalizer malfunction, most likely. Optimus' processor tried to place the mech's voice; even with the noise, it sounded familiar.

"I do not know what you have been told, but I mean you no harm."

"Told? BAH! I was told nothing. I only know what I have seen with my own optics. And you, Optimus Prime, have caused me grievous pain indeed."

"I do not understand. Tell me your story, friend, and perhaps there is someway I can atone for whatever wrong you accuse me of."

"Firstly, _friend_ , your first slight is that you seem to not recognize me." As the mech spoke, he stood up and wandered over towards the barrier that held him. "Or is the sight of the fallen Decepticon leader simply too much for your spark to bear?"

"M-megatron… I- I-"

"Spare me your pity, Prime. We have failed, and Cybertron will remain under the pedes and treads of the Council. Surely, even you can see that now."

"B- I do not understand. You were to be-"

"Executed? Yes, that would have been the merciful end to my existence. Instead, I am left here, rusting away to nothing, as all of Cybertron enjoys peace once again - as the lower castes have their frames shattered so that the upper castes may live."

"I had hoped that it would never end like this, Old Friend. However, if we must rust in this Pit, at least we are together."

"Together? You, and I? More lies. We had our fun, our game, and now we must pay the price for our arrogance."

"All the times we have shared - "

"Were merely political. Do you not see, Optimus, that the only way the revolution could occur was by some semblance of legitimacy. And that you, as the new Prime, were the best way to achieve that end?"

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because it was real. There was a connection. Until the Decepticons were handed over to their oppressors by their Prime. Their Prime who ran to his snivelling council the moment I was out of the picture and ceremoniously proceeded to name every single Decepticon agent. Their Prime who watched as the Council dispatched legions to collect each and every one and stood by as their sparks were ripped out and shattered in the middle of the Council room."

Optimus said nothing. There was nothing he could say - trying to deny the events would only make it worse for Megatron.

"Where was the spark that led one of the grandest deceptions the world ever saw? The leader who saw the corruption of power that infested all of Cybertron and rose up with a secret group to attempt to demolish it? Where was that spark when the Decepticons needed it most to be strong, to stand up against the powers-that-be in order to save them from being offlined? Where were you?" The last sentence was accompanied by a wave of helpless anguish from Megatron's field.

Optimus stood there, helm and optics facing the floor.

"Where were you? The greatest traitor that Cybertron ever knew - the traitor who sat idly by as all of his purported allies were slaughtered. You sicken me. Y-"

Megatron's words cut off as he was engulfed in a stasis field.

Optimus' helm rose slowly as a mech made his way to the front of his cell.

"Councilor Contrail."

"Well, if it isn't our little pet! Tell me, just how was that time you spent in stasis? I tried it once - nasty business - but regardless, I have a proposition for you."

Optimus' optics hardened. "The answer is no, Contrail."

"But, Prime, you don't even know what I want - and it's not like I really want you to stay down here until you rust."

Optimus said nothing. Contrail continued:

"I'm offering a _sensible_ bargain - your freedom, in exchange for being able to save your friend there."

Optimus paused, uncertain. "I do not understand. Neither of the options you offer me are to your benefit."

"And that's the glory of it. You get two things you want, in the end."

"How am I to go about saving Megatron?"

"Simple. Offlining him, as the council originally suggested. You see that stasis field over there? It's installed in this cell, too." Contrail tapped a button on the side of Optimus' cell.

The stasis was immediate. As the field erupted around his frame, every single one of his frame's pain receptors triggered. The pain didn't immediately erupt into processor-engulfing torment, but a slow, creeping ache throughout his entire frame. A pain that didn't cease, didn't resolve itself into ignorable background noise, but slowly grew over time as the pain signals fed back into themselves.

"Interesting, isn't it? The pain was not an intended side-effect of the field, but we haven't been able to remove it yet. I think it's a pity that some mechs think the feature is too cruel. Nevertheless, we've never had the opportunity to try an extended length test on an online mech."

Another tab of the button, and the field broke, and Optimus' frame crashed down to the floor. He took a moment to gather himself, and then pushed himself back upright.

"I don't mind leaving you both here. Your choice, Prime."

Optimus looked at his pedes for several kilocycles.

"Very well."

Contrail pressed another button on the panel, and the forcefield powered down. Optimus stepped over the threshold, refusing to look anywhere near Megatron or Contrail.

"Follow me, Prime. We have much to prepare."

Optimus followed behind Contrail out of the room, his helm turning back to look at Megatron at the last possible instant. Optimus quickly turned away, not before sending the silver mech a single comm.

"I'm sorry, old friend."

The door closed behind him, and Optimus felt his spark sink as he walked.

* * *

After the other two mechs left, Tarn entered the room from a door on the opposing side.

A press on the panel, and the field engulfing Megatron vanished.

Megatron's frame twisted, shifted, and melted into a shorter mech, a little stocky.

Tarn looked down.

"Come, Makeshift. There is more to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know what today is. But if I had had the time and energy to prepare an April Fool's Day prank, it would've been it's own separate fic.


	8. Il Volto Della Fine

Megatron's optics onlined to darkness. He tested moving a few servos, and, as expected, felt the resistance of the stasis cuffs instead.

The council had captured him. He was going to be offlined, and there was nothing he could do to save himself. Nothing he could do to save the cause. Nothing further he could do to free his people.

Nothing further he could do to save Optimus from what the Cortical Psychic Patch had revealed.

Shockwave had developed the tool at a Council research center for use by the Decepticons, even before Orion had become the Prime. The patch was intended to reveal the corruption and dark secrets of those in power, in order to expose them to the masses. Optimus, upon learning of the tool's existence, had opposed its use with a passion that Megatron had never seen out of the mech, and Megatron had begrudgingly agreed.

In some twisted, ironic fashion, the tool had achieved its goals exactly.

Megatron's mind, his memories, had been laid bare before the very mechs he had sworn to overthrow. His failures, his fears, his most intimate moments, exposed. Every secret, every detail, every name that he ever had the misfortune of speaking to - the Council knew them all.

The Decepticons were finished, and there was nothing Megatron could do to save them.

A door opened - Megatron was glad to note that his aural receptors were still working. The stride sounded familiar - a regular beat, but not fast. Megatron heard the sound of something moving in front of his face, and layers of metal folded on top of each other, removing the paneling that had blocked his optics.

Standing before him was Optimus - or at least a mech that very much looked like Optimus.

"Old friend-"

Megatron roared staticky gibberish, and threw out his field in rage with as much force as he could muster. "Don't you DARE 'Old Friend' me, shifter."

Optimus' field had been engulfed by the sheer power of Megatron's, but the mech stood, optics focusing.

"I do not understand these accusations - but we will have to worry about them at a later time. The Council wishes for me to publicly execute you for treason."

Megatron threw his helm back, laughing heartily. "Very well, then, 'Old Friend.' Better to descend nobly than by getting shot down in a failed attempt - or is that the plan? The Decepticon leader, offlined as he tries to save his finish. No, I refuse - shoot me here, or kill me there. Or do you not have the spark for it?" Megatron's field had weakened slightly, as he let room for Optimus' in. All Megatron could sense was a growing feeling of sadness, of desperation and fear.

"We do not have much time - please, Megatronus, we must go."

Megatron's optics narrowed instantly.

"How _DARE YOU_ ," Megatron struggled against the stasis cuffs with every bit of force that he could muster - and managed to overpower the stasis field, if only for a moment. Optimus took a reflexive step back. "You... you of ALL mechs should know to never to use that name."

Optimus' field shrunk nearly to the point of vanishing.

"You are not Optimus Prime - you are the imposter from the Pits!"

Optimus cocked his helm to the side, his faceplates twisted into a smile that reminded Megatron of Starscream, just before the Seeker announced one of his schemes.

"Oh, really?" the mech's frame twisted around itself, just as it had before. Megatron watched, helplessly, as the imposter's chestplates opened first - inside, Megatron noticed something strange, and it took a moment to process as his optics also processed the shifter's plates separate, rejoin and fold over each other.

But, the imposter had not replicated the Matrix.

The shifter reformed into some kind of generic, baseform - reminiscent of a protoform with layers of plating on top. His plates were dull grey in color, his optics glowed white.

Megatron in-vented forcefully. "So, then. If not Optimus Prime, whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

The mech had no faceplate; he transmitted a small packet instead.

Megatron opened it - it contained a single word: Makeshift.

Another packet: You cannot escape your judgment.

Another: You will be executed

Another: The Prime has already consented to terminating you personally.

Megatron's optics fixed on Makeshift's.

"Very well then. If that is to be my fate, I welcome it. You do not frighten me, Makeshift. Nor is there anything you can say that will make me fear my death."

Makeshift replied: Your field suggests otherwise.

"Your field suggests that you know full well that were it not for these cuffs, you would be scrap on the floor right now."

Makeshift turned to leave, transforming into a non-descript maintenance bot - and sent Megatron one last packet before he left.

It read: Your bondmate will murder you in 500 megacycles. Make your peace while you can.

The moment that the door closed, Megatron offlined his optics.

The darkness was a small comfort, and probably the last he would ever know.


	9. Fuga di Morte

Megatron hadn't noticed that he had slipped into recharge until he felt the vibrations of the platform below him, taking him to the execution site.

A mech read over the protocols, yammering away in a heavy Iaconian accent. Megatron was, apparently, entitled to name both a successor and an inheritor, and for a megacycle's time locked in the Hall of the Thirteen before being brought to his fate.

He refused all of it.

Naming other mechs would just put them at risk, and as for prayer...

Megatron had given up on Primus long ago.

* * *

Megatron refused to online his optics as he waited at the execution block. He could hear the growing crowd around him - his death was to be a public event, after all.

_Good. Let them come._

_Starscream, offline. Optimus, betrayal._

_If I can't free Cybertron, the least I can offer is a moment of levity._

An ancient Cybertronian fanfare played - not over public comms, but over a speaker. Megatron knew the sound, even with his optics offline he could see the Council emerging from their chambers, standing over the mob with a calculated, practiced air of superiority.

"Fellow sentients of Cybertron!" The High Councilor spoke. "Today marks the dawn of a new era for Cybertron!"

The crowd roared.

"No longer shall we need to fear for our very sparks - the threat of the Decepticon terrorists has finally ended!"

More roaring - Megatron picked out a few scattered phrases:

"Death to the fiend!"

"Offline the glitch already!"

The crowd went silent.

Megatron onlined his optics. Optimus was standing above him, optics carefully avoiding Megatron's. The stasis cuffs disrupted his ability to sense the Prime's field, but even with that in place, Megatron could feel Optimus' anguish.

It was insulting. If Megatron could use his vocalizer, he would have taunted the Prime, but the mechs in charge of leading him out had jammed that as well. He was trapped, silenced, and Optimus, the poor fool, couldn't even muster the spark to offline him.

"My fellow Cybertronians. I stand here before you as your Prime on this tragic day - a day in which I am forced to offline one of our own. I realize that many of you will not share my regrets - the mech before you, you see as a traitor, a terrorist who has threatened all of Cybertron with fear and destruction."

Optimus paused for a moment, for effect.

"And while the wounds that he and his followers inflicted are devastating, I regret the loss of yet another Cybertronian spark - in part, because he reminds me of a mech that I once knew, long ago."

Some murmuring escaped the crowd.

"Many gigacycles ago - before I became your Prime - I was a simple data clerk in Iacon. While I, personally, found the work satisfying, I could see that some of the others around me were less satisfied with their assigned role. And, as I learned, that dissatisfaction was not unique to the mechs around me."

Optimus gave a decided glance up at the Council, who were very obviously forcing themselves to maintain a calm facade.

"One mech in particular caught my attention, a miner called 'D-16,' a mech who was cast down into what we claim to be the lowest rungs of society and forced into a life of servitude. A mech who could see beyond the rules that control our destinies and saw a new world, a different world."

_A better world._

Megatron noticed a private comm, sent to him by Optimus just before he began his speech: "On my orders."

"Today, I am bound by my duty - my duty to defend Cybertron and to uphold the principles that we hold most dear. As your Prime, I am duty-bound to take not the path of least resistance, but the right path. In my spark, I know that I am taking the correct action."

Optimus raised his blade up high, optics fixed on the Council. Megatron exvented, and offlined his optics.

"DECEPTICONS! TRANSFORM AND RISE UP!" Optimus roared, and brought the blade down. Megatron released that he was flinching as he regained his ability to move, but immediately transformed and flew off.

Several of the spectators also transformed into aerial alt-modes, and released a thick smoke, obscuring the area and his escape. The sounds of weapons onlining and of mechs charging at each other filled his aurals.

Megatron fled, dodging some small blaster fire with ease. The comm had featured a set of coordinates 7 kilokliks away, and Megatron knew in his spark that Optimus would find him there.

Assuming, of course, that Optimus escaped the retribution of the Council.

Megatron turned around, taking the moment to both online and charge up his plasma cannon. There was no way he was going to leave Opti-

The emergency shielding went up. A brilliant sheen of glowing plasma arced across the execution site, forming a dome over the area.

Megatron had too much first hand experience with similar shielding - too many fellow miners offlined by accidents - to even consider approaching it.

It took every ounce of spark he had to turn back to the heading for the coordinates.


	10. Reunion degli amici

The coordinates were on the outskirts of Iacon, in one of the slums that housed most of the servicebots that handled the menial labor in Iacon - maintenance, cleaning and transport. Shuttles were delegated to specialized quarters outside the city - the council always maintained that they were too large for traditional housing.

Any mech with a fragment of rational thought could see through that lie, but it had been repeated enough that even some of the shuttles themselves had echoed the sentiment when Megatron had come around recruiting.

There were shuttle quarters a few dozen kliks from here, if Megatron's memory banks were working correctly. But the entire district seemed abandoned - most likely the reason behind Optimus' choice.

All that was left was to wait, and to trust in Optimus' ability to survive.

Several kilocycles passed, and Megatron found himself pacing, trying to keep his processor occupied. Worrying about Optimus wouldn't do any good, and Megatron already had a scan of the area stored in his battle computer's databanks.

And yet…

Megatron knew the execution grounds well - Optimus had given him access to the original blueprints from the Hall of Records, in preparation for a day like this one. Knew every last inch, every hidden nook and cranny he could find.

There weren't many - especially for a grounder.

But, there was no way the council could have predicted what happened - Megatron himself was still trying to process what the Prime had done.

But to escape, with the shielding up...

Megatron shook him helm, to try to dislodge the thought from his processor.

Going back would be suicide, despite what his spark was trying to tell him.

It was just like Starscream all over again.

Megatron hit his helm against the nearest wall. Optimus was on his own, and there was nothing he could do to help.

In the meantime, the Council's forces were likely looking for him - and a secure shelter was going to need to be the first step.

Megatron found an old, doorless shuttle habitat two buildings over, and sat down in a corner away from the entrances.

It was only then that he registered that his frame needed recharge - and, despite his processor's protests, recharge took over almost immediately.

* * *

Megatron snapped out of recharge instantly at the sound of an engine and wheels. He onlined his plasma cannon, and waited.

A red and blue truck wheeled around the corner, and transformed back into root mode as soon as he saw Megatron.

Megatron kept his cannon trained on the mech, optics focused and narrowed.

"Megatron-"

Megatron let off a blast that crashed into the ground in front of Optimus' pedes. Optimus' field exploded with surprise.

"Silence. Show me the Matrix." Megatron's voice was even, and he kept his field pulled in tight.

"I do not understand, old fr-"

Megatron let off another blast, this time narrowly missing Optimus on the left.

"NOW!" Megatron roared.

Optimus exvented, before releasing the lock on his chest plating.

The Matrix of Leadership hummed, resting in front of Optimus' spark chamber.

Megatron let his relief wash out over Optimus as he lowered the cannon, and extended his other hand. Optimus closed his plating, took Megatron's hand and pulled him into an embrace.

Neither of them said a word for kilocycles.

Optimus broke the silence first.

"I am- old friend, I had feared..." his vocalizer trailed off as the words escaped him.

Megatron looked Optimus in the optics. "I know." He leaned in for a quick kiss, which Optimus returned, wrapping a hand around Megatron's helm.

Megatron didn't hear the other cannon fire until he felt Optimus collapse in his arms.

Tarn had his cannon raised, pointed at Megatron, ready to fire again.


	11. Morte e Rinascita

Megatron dropped Optimus' still-leaking chassis, just in time to dodge Tarn's shot.

"So, we finally come face-to-face, D-16." Tarn sneered from under a smooth, blank faceplate as he fired his second fusion cannon. "I must admit, you seem to be as competent as they say."

Megatron ducked around a corner, onlining his battle computer - and his fusion cannon by proxy. He poked his head around for half a cycle, and Tarn replied with a quick blast, aimed at Megatron's head.

"I was an admirer of yours, once. I did have 'Towards Peace' almost permanently embedded in my memory banks, once."

Megatron fired a shot around the corner, aiming by the sound of Tarn's footsteps - a clear miss from the sound of it.

"But now, now I see the truth. Your feelings make you weak, and you have attached yourself to the very symbol of all you despise. Surely, you recall the resounding paragraph you wrote about denouncing the order of the Primacy."

Megatron peered around the corner again. Tarn's field radiated pleasure and Megatron's optics went wide.

Tarn had Optimus' helm in one hand, using it to lift the Prime's frame off the ground, each finger creating deeper and deeper dents in the helm. The mech's other arm was occupied with holding a fusion cannon to the Prime's chestplates, aimed directed at his sparkchamber.

"So, D-16. We appear to be at an impasse. Surely, you realize that any sudden moments on your end will result in your Prime's spark shattered?"

Megatron paused.

"What would you have me do?"

"To save his spark? I don't think there is anything you could do, after that escape. But, if you to buy him a few more cycles before his inevitable offlining..." Tarn paused a moment, and Megatron watched the mech.

"You can start by removing your cannon."

Megatron complied in a single fluid moment. He took half a step forward, without thinking, and Tarn jerked his cannon into Optimus' chestplates.

Megatron retreated back the step.

"Very good, very good indeed," Tarn purred, his mockingly playful field engulfing Megatron.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm merely just talking - after all, you are the single most dangerous criminal that Cybertron has ever known, and I'm holding onto the greatest traitor in history as well. Well, you see, I've been told that, well, I can talk mechs to death."

Megatron fought back the urge to laugh.

"By which I mean that, well, I sync my vocal frequencies to provide resonant feedback with a spark. And right about... now - there it is. I do love that small initial rush of the connection. As I was saying, though, my vocal frequencies are now matched with your little pet's spark."

The rush of rage that erupted in Megatron's field, for all its power and passion, could have been nothing for all it could do. Megatron's battle computer was roaring away, calculating routes and attack plans and strategies.

Each one came back with the same results - Optimus Prime, offline.

Megatron clenched his fists, claws denting the plating on his hands. Pain sensors were firing, but it gave his processor something to process beyond Optimus' fate.

"So, D-16. Is there anything you'd like to tell the traitor before he rejoins the Well?"

Megatron's helm drooped, and his entire frame sank with it. His processor had devoted full power to the battle computer... and still, nothing.

When it mattered most, there was nothing he could do.

"You silence says enough. Now, Optimus Prime," Tarn cooed, voice gently lowering as he spoke, "your time is up."

Megatron felt the sudden absence of Optimus' field, and fell to his knees. His eyes and field filled with rage as he brought his helm back up to look Tarn straight in the optics.

"No…" Megatron's frame refused to move. The fight was over, exactly as his simulations had predicted. The moment of rage vanished, replaced by helplessness and despair.

"You see, D-16? Did you actually imagine, even for a single cycle, that you could win this war?" Tarn approached Megatron, tossing Optimus' chassis to the side like an empty energon cube.

Tarn grabbed Megatron by the neck, lifting him off the ground and Megatron could feel some of his fuel lines being crushed under the mech's grip. Megatron's vocalizer was caught under one of Tarn's fingers, and a weak burst of static escaped the mech.

"So, this is what the leader of the Decepticons has been reduced to? Pathetic." Tarn ran a finger down Megatron's arm, making a small circle over the attachment point for the fusion cannon.

Megatron tried to speak, but Tarn jostled his arm and the words refused to come.

"Oh? Now you have something to say? I do wish you had thought of that before I finished with your Prime. I'm curious how he'd react to you struggling like this." Tarn's faceplates were almost touching Megatron's audial sensors, his fingers loosened enough for Megatron's vocalizer to function.

"So, D-16. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Megatron paused a moment before beginning to speak - but before he could get any words out, a powerful burst of an EM field washed over the pair of them. Megatron glanced over Tarn's shoulder, and caught the glimpse of Optimus' biolights re-igniting.

"Nothing more than what I said all those cycles ago."

Megatron swung a fist into Tarn's facemask, cracking it under one eye. Tarn dropped the Decepticon leader, who rolled along the ground, landed on his feet and brought his blade out. Tarn fired a shot at Megatron, but Megatron hopped backwards, before charging at Tarn, who had taken a moment to look back at Optimus. By the time Tarn turned back around, Megatron had closed the gap between them, and with one fluid motion, sliced the weapons off of Tarn's arm.

The next motion brought Megatron's blade to Tarn's neck.

"So, slag, any final words before your miserable spark is extinguished?"

Tarn hesitated.

Megatron's blade didn't.

The mech's chassis collapsed as its helm was severed, and Megatron retracted his blade immediately. Optimus was beginning to stir.

"M-megatron?"

Megatron ran over and helped Optimus up - the mech still was leaking energon rapidly.

"Come, Optimus, we must get you to safety."

Optimus slumped over and Megatron felt the weight of the Prime's chassis.

"Megatr-tron, we m-must get to these coor-ordinates…" Optimus sent the data over a comm before his helm slumped again.

The location wasn't far from here, even for mechs in root mode. Megatron slumped Optimus over his shoulder - his alt would not serve to carry the truck-mech - and slowly carried the mech to the shuttle bay where Optimus had pointed them.


	12. Partenza

Megatron, Optimus' weight over his shoulder, paused before opening the door to the shuttle bay. There was something here, yes. The only question, though, was what.

He flipped open the access panel, and was about to press the button when the door opened of its own accord.

"... Ratchet. Optimus needs help." Ratchet didn't say anything - the medic's field said it all - but instead moved to help Megatron carry the Prime.

The shuttle bay was occupied dozens of Autobots and Decepticons, all buzzing around, preparing the shuttle for take off. Everyone kept carefully out of their way as they heaved Optimus' frame onto the shuttle itself.

Once they reached what amounted to the on-ship med bay, Ratchet spoke for the first time.

"He's bad - really bad. My diagnostic protocols have been scanning his I got a servo on him, and, well… it'll take a miracle to undo all the energon loss, much less make the repairs." Ratchet's field was soft, fluctuating between concern and sympathy.

Megatron set Optimus down on the medical berth, and turned to leave.

"I expect a full report as soon as you know either way, Doctor."

As the door closed behind him, he heard Ratchet's reply: "Of course."

Megatron let his field loose as soon as the door closed behind him, only to abruptly pull it back in when he noticed First Aid speeding towards the door behind him in alt mode.

Shaking his helm, Megatron sent a comm to the shuttle, trying to get a hold on the situation - anything to keep his processor occupied. The shuttle replied, extremely formally, with his designation and commanding officer - Omega Supreme, currently under the command of Ultra Magnus, Optimus' second-in-command since the inception of the Autobots.

Omega himself had no further information, and so, Megatron left to go find the current commander.

Ultra Magnus' office was a room of very precise detail and impeccable order. While the mech and Megatron had their disagreements - Ultra Magnus had a way of getting hung up on particular rules and regulations - Megatron had nothing but deep-set admiration for the way that the mech conducted himself. Even though most of the Autobot/Decepticon alliance knew that the two couldn't stand each other personally, Ultra Magnus had a set of rules of interaction that, at the very least, made his predictable to deal with.

The other point in his favor, at least for Megatron, was that Optimus had trusted him enough to appoint him second-in-command.

Ultra Magnus sat in the direct center of his desk, hands folded neatly, optics shut. As soon as he heard the door shut, the blue mech stood up, and looked Megatron in the optics.

"You've arrived." Ultra Magnus spoke in a decidedly even tone. Megatron's field bristled with annoyance for a moment, as it always did when the other mech spoke.

"Hopefully with cycles to spare; Optimus is in dire straits." Megatron replied, failing to keep his field steady.

"Ratchet informed me. Now, the next question. Are you re-assuming your position as leader of the Decepticons?" Ultra Magnus grabbed a datapad from the desk and scrolled through, looking for a piece of information. Megatron's optics blurred out and then refocused.

"Is there any question of that?" he replied.

"Just ensuring protocol is in place. These past few megacycles have been turbulent and we must work to maintain the proper chain of command."

Megatron's optics rolled back into his helm. "You don't say," his vocalizer took on a very cold affect.

"I realize that you were-" Ultra Magnus caught himself, and cleared his vocalizer. "- you have undergone a stressful situation, and therefore, as per Autobot code section 0x03D5.2B.3, you will be allowed to not resume command until we have arrived at our new HQ. In the meantime, Optimus will behave as acting head."

Megatron's spark flickered.

"If I am unfit for duty, then Optimus is as well."

Ultra Magnus paused, stunned. They both knew that Megatron was right.

"O-of course. In that case, command falls to your secon-" Ultra Magnus caught himself, seeing Starscream's name still on the data pad.

"In that case, command falls to myself." Megatron nodded. "Though, in light of recent events, it might make sense to solidify the chain of command into a single line."

"Possibly. Once we have left this Primus-forsaken planet, we can have ourselves a leisurely chat about the arrangements," Megatron caught his field - it was much angrier than he had expected. Megatron paused for a few, slow ventilation cycles, but speaking again. "In the meantime, I shall excuse myself to my quarters."

Ultra Magnus nodded. "Habsuite 0x3F." Megatron nodded back, and left the office.

The habsuites were one deck above Ultra Magnus' office, and 0x3F was located at Omega's bow. It still a fairly spartan arrangement, but it would serve for time. At least the berth was large enough to fit both him and Optimus comfortably.

That is, assuming Optimus recovered. Megatron sat down on the berth, helm facing the ground, and let his field cycle, trying to focus his thoughts on the work that would need to be done the moment they left Cybertron. Regardless of Optimus' condition.

If Optimus didn't pull through, the council chambers would be covered in the Unicron-damned energon of those who dared to stand in that Pit and call any of this 'justice.' Each and every Councilor would be dismantled slowly, deliberately, rearranged in the formation that Starscream was found in, and not actually offlined until their processors scrambled to the point where they could no longer tell their afts from their alternators.

It would be brutal.

It would be painful.

It would be messy.

It would be revenge. Sweet, satisfying revenge. Revenge for the forty three killed by Tarn. Revenge for all of the teracycles of torment and oppression inflicted upon all Cybertronians, except the elite.

Revenge for the loss of the one mech who had made the fight, the struggle against all odds, worthwhile. The mech who was given the ability to renounce the Decepticons, become a figurehead for the will of the council and tool to force Cybertron back into an oppressive peace. The mech who was given this, the easy way out, and had come back to Megatron with a method to fight the good fight from within.

The mech he… he loved.

The mech whom he never said those words to; and who, despite all the pain and rage that Megatron held on to, would never approve of slaughter in his name.

Megatron let the righteous indignation filter back out of his system, and lay down on the berth.

Carrying Optimus had taken more out of him than he had expected.

* * *

He awoke to a comm from Ratchet.

Megatron's spark froze in its chamber - and the anticipation of the worst possible outcome set off a deluge of panicked, horrified thoughts.

Megatron opened the message.

He burst from the room, running down the hall back to the medbay. When he arrived, he almost run headlong into Ratchet, who managed to just barely step out of the way.

"Wh-" Ratchet just smiled and pointed to the recovery berth on the right.

Megatron stepped gingerly into the alcove, and Optimus turned his helm towards the entrance, a weak grin erupting on his faceplates when he saw Megatron.

Megatron took a seat on the stool, and took Optimus' hand in his own.

"Hello, Optimus. It's good to see you again." Megatron's voice wavered as he spoke.

"Indeed, old friend. Ratchet tells me that the plan was a success, and that Omega is going to lift off soon." Optimus' voice was tired and weak, but his field was full of warmth and comfort.

"And what about your systems?"

"I am expected to make a full recovery." Megatron half-fell, half-threw himself at Optimus, wrapping one arm around the mech.

"Never. Again," Megatron whispered.

"Of course, old friend," Optimus said, his voice drifting off as he slipped back towards recharge. "I love you."

Megatron sat back up - he was not moving from the stool until Optimus left the breth.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, folks.
> 
> Shoutouts to Dexxxtrodna, my go-to beta and all around badass, to HurricaneFoundary for posting the original kinkmeme prompt that spawned this (and for all the flailing at my teasing about plot points), and to mllemusketeer for getting me into this fandom and pairing to begin with.
> 
> And, finally, big thanks to everyone who's been reading, commenting, kudoing, etc. I'm so pleased that so many people seemed to enjoy this fic, and you all make it worthwhile!
> 
> I suppose this is the point where I announce plans for a sequel, but I've got a bunch of other bunnies to attend to first.
> 
> Until next time~


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